


wishing on dandelions

by stainedglassbirds



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Dewey Duck Has ADHD, F/F, Fluff, Honorary Duck Family Member Webby Vanderquack, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Dewey Duck, Pancakes, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Temporary Character Death, Trans Female Huey Duck, Trans Louie Duck, Trans Webby Vanderquack, everyone is trans really those ones are just specifically mentioned in this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stainedglassbirds/pseuds/stainedglassbirds
Summary: “A soulmate is… it’s like your best friend. It’s someone who you can laugh with, have discussions when it’s way past your bedtime, share your interests, someone who’s always going to be by your side and you’ll be with them too. It’s an eternal bond that nothing can break. They make you better. They make your life better. It’s someone who’s going to be more important to you than you could ever know.”or:Webby's figuring out her place in life, but at least there's four people she knows who will always have her back.
Relationships: Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Lena (Disney: DuckTales) & Violet Sabrewing, Lena (Disney: DuckTales) & Webby Vanderquack, Lena (Disney: DuckTales)/Webby Vanderquack
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	wishing on dandelions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! thank you for reading this big thing ive been working on!! theres a few things i wanna get across first:
> 
> hdlw are NOT romantic, they are siblings. hdl/w shippers please leave. lena and vi are also siblings, them being soulmates isnt romantic either. soulmates in this au arent a romantic thing, theyre not inherently... any relationship. soulmates choose their relationship, its not a pre-determined fate to be lovers or anything. weblena chose to love each other, hdlw chose to be siblings, etc. alright thank u and u can go on to read now

_soul mate_

_/ˈsōl ˌmāt/_

_noun  
  
_ _noun:_ **_soulmate_**

  * _a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.  
  
_



* * *

  
Webby is six years old when her granny sits her down, gentle hands holding her own, and explains the names on Webby’s wrist.  
  
Webby knows what they are, kind of, though she doesn’t remember the first time she learned of them. It’s just something she’s always known, like how the sky is blue or the grass is green. Soulmates are something everyone has.  
  
She often finds herself tracing the names, reading the names over and over again like they hold the secrets of the world. To her, it feels like they do.  
  
“These names,” Granny gently runs a hand over them, kneeled down in front of Webby. “are _very_ special. They’re the people that will watch your backs, stand by your side, and always be there when you need them. They’re your soulmates, and they’ll be more important than you could ever know.”  
  
“Like a best friend?” Webby asks, staring starry-eyed at the names.  
  
Granny smiles, all wrinkles and tired eyes, love softening her sharp features. “Not quite, but you’ll understand soon enough, dear.”  
  


* * *

  
Webby races through the corridors of the manor, carpet completely soft and clean underneath her feet. It lacks the slight lumpiness the carpet in the halls she usually wanders in have. It’s a barely noticeable difference, but when she’s been living with it her entire life she tends to see the little details.  
  
She knows Granny would yell at her for how she’s sprinting around, but, Webby thinks as she stops and pulls herself into a twirl right in front of a door, it’s _fun_.  
  
The fluorescent lights blink at her.  
  
“You better not tell on me,” Webby whispers to the empty hallway, hands on her hips. There’s no one around, but she knows someone is mysteriously cleaning her room whenever she lets it get out of control, and it’s _not_ Granny.  
  
It’s one of the many fascinating things about the manor, next to all the artifacts openly laying about, and _that’s_ next to…  
  
She swiftly opens the door, banging it against the wall with a _thump_ that makes her wince.  
  
 _Closet diving!_  
  
“Let’s see what we have here…” she mumbles.  
  
Now, Webby respects privacy like any good child. Polite manners have been drilled into her head, and she likes to follow them for the most part. But she doesn’t think there’s anything _wrong_ going through miscellaneous closets in the hall that are left unlocked for anyone to see.  
  
Besides, they let her find cool things like various ancient board games, more books to read, information to archive, everything and anything exciting.  
  
This closet does not seem to bring her that.  
  
She frowns at the empty thing, dust filling every crevice of it. “Aw, come on! Nothing? Seriously?”  
  
The closet doesn’t respond. Webby continues to frown at it. It continues to not spontaneously produce anything cool. She sighs loudly, shutting it. _That_ was boring.  
  
Slightly less enthusiastically she carries on down the hall, studying each table she passes filled with jewelry, trophies, and many other things. Weapons and various armour line the walls, and occasionally she passes a beautiful painting.  
  
Sometimes it feels like the manor is so big she’ll never see the entirety of it, left to be a mystery forever.  
  
That’s not going to happen, though. As an eventual adventurer, it’s her duty to explore and chart everything she can!  
  
Feeling her energy back, she skips down the hall, throwing open the first door she sees that’s clearly marked as a closet due to the different handle— and finds herself under a massive heap of _something._  
  
She hits the floor, yelping as her vision is obscured by darkness. Is this a trap, is someone out to get her—  
  
 _Think later! Act now!_  
  
Pushing through the heap on her, she jumps out, immediately darting into a defensive pose, poised to fight. She quickly looks around, and allows herself the briefest second to look down and see what fell down on top of her, and it’s…  
  
Oh.  
  
Slowly, she relaxes, though still gives another check over to see if she triggered anything or if someone’s lurking in the shadows.  
  
What fell on top of her... was just a pile of clothes. Costumes?  
  
The closet was stuffed to the brim with them, the door being opened immediately causing them all to fall out. A few hats roll onto the floor. Webby stares at them, blinking as she takes in the sight.  
  
...She’ll clean it up later.  
  
The costumes look pretty cool. It’s a heap of colors and frills, multiple different fabrics in the mess. She pulls out a costume that looks akin to something a pirate would wear, cloudy torn fabric loosely wrapped around the waist of it. But where’s the pirate hat to match?  
  
Something colorful catches her eye. Well, everything here is pretty colorful, but it’s like, _neon_ colorful. It pokes out from an intricate scarf that she tosses aside, pulling out the bright treasure.

It’s... a hat. A hat shaped like a squid, that’s bright purple with stripes of other vivid colors. Googly eyes are plastered onto it.

It’s the stupidest looking hat she has ever seen.

A snort escapes her mouth that quickly dissolves into giggling and then full blown laughter. She doesn't know why this squid hat is so _funny,_ but it’s so dumb-looking and the googly eyes stare straight into her soul, combining that with the blazing colors it creates an imagery so jarring she cant help but laugh.

When her amusement subsides, she puts on the hat. It fits almost perfectly. The thought of how she must look in it makes her giggle again. Dewey would love this.

The thought makes her pause.

That's something she'll have to add to her list. It’s small, but ever-growing, slowly filling with everything she’s able to parse out about her soulmates. It’s not uncommon for her to suddenly think a specific soulmate would like something, or dislike, or have some strange feeling about it. It’s just part of the wonderful thing about the soulmate connection.

She appreciates being able to know her soulmates without having met them yet. It makes it a bit less lonely.

"Someday," she whispers, looking at the blue written _DEWEY_ , letters all capitalized in an enthusiastic and sloppy manner. "I’ll show you this dumb hat. I’ll show all of you it, and then we can play pretend with all these outfits." 

It’s a promise.  
  


* * *

  
The farthest Webby’s been allowed outside is the manor's backyard.

The fence stretches on forever, various plants and vines tended to by Granny and often herself filling the place. It’s one of her favorite places in the manor grounds, the big pool sitting in it only making her favor it more.

It’s a good place for training if her lessons with Granny can't be contained inside, and it's also a good place for... well, everything else. She trains there, reads, gardens, swims, plays... 

The last thing on the list is what she's currently doing, bouncing a ball on her knee. She flawlessly shoots it into the air, performing a backflip and kicking the ball from the air, punting it across the yard. She's gotten pretty good at her aim, thankfully not hitting anything as it rolls to a stop. The first few times she did this trick were disastrous at best.

She sprints to the ball, swiftly retrieving it. A thought hits her. It is not the first time it has, and it won't be the last.

This would be a lot more fun with someone else.

She sighs, looking at her wrist. She wonders if any of her soulmates would think it's cool. Maybe one of them plays a sport. Webby personally hasn't, the closest being this, but she thinks it’d be fun. If her soulmates haven’t, they could try out together. Soccer, maybe, or volleyball... she studies her soulmates names, going down the list and trying to get some sort of feeling.

Would Louie like sports...?  
  
It feels very, very wrong. Webby decides to add that to the list later.  
  
She studies the green name, unevenly spaced, though neat. She's always liked the fact it's written in lowercase, somehow matching the energy perfectly.  
  
It used to be a different name. She had freaked out momentarily when it switched to _louie_ , but it hit her quickly. She felt a little stupid afterwards, considering her own experiences. But it was nice having the reassurance that her soulmark would be written as _Webby_ instead of forever ingrained as a name she didn’t use.  
  
That's something they could talk about.

Something in her quietly unfurls, then bursts. Her hands tremble. She tightens her grip on the ball. She is suddenly very, very tired of this. Tired of waiting, tired of only having a list be the closest thing to friends, tired of being alone.

She’s grateful for what she has. She loves her granny. But why does she have to be stuck here, why cant she just— why can't she— it’s not _fair_ !

The sound of glass shattering tears her out of her thoughts.

Webby blinks.

The ball isn't in her hands anymore, only an empty space. She realizes distantly that she threw it. One of the windows of the manor has a torn hole through it, broken glass sparkling in the sunlight.

She blinks again, for lack of anything better to do.

It dawns on her that she is absolutely going to be grounded when her granny comes rushing outside. She can't find it in herself to feel sorry, a guilt that would normally be there replaced by a clawing emptiness. Apologies leave her mouth anyway.

"I don't understand," Granny finally says after fierce admonishing.

"...Sorry." 

Webby is in-fact grounded. The weird numbness finally fades as she lays on her bed, flicking through her phone. There's a lot of restrictions set, and she mostly uses it to listen to music. She hits play on something random, letting it fill the silence. Only a few seconds in and she can tell it's something classical. Not really her style.

She almost moves to skip it when she thinks, this is something Huey would like. Her hand halts.

Huh. Huey’s into classical, then.  
  
A small smile forms on her face as she looks at the name, precise and neat, yet expressive. Unlike Dewey and Louie, it’s simply written with normal capitalization. 

Sitting up, she reaches under her bed, grabbing the journal that sits beside her diary. She flips it open, quickly grabbing two nearby glitter pens, green and red. _Louie doesn't like sports. Huey likes classical music_ , she writes. They're the most recent additions to the long list of various other things she's written about her soulmates.

Curiously, she's never been able to list anything for the black Lena sitting on her wrist. There's just... nothing that's reminded her of Lena. Nothing to tell her what they like or don't. Nothing to tell her what Lena’s into. It's really, really weird. Webby first chalked it up to them not having similar interests, but after years she feels like something should have happened by now.

...Sometimes, she's worried something happened to Lena.

But she knows even if something did, she would still have the connection. It transcends death. Some people find it to be a curse that even after their soulmate dies they are still reminded of them, still dream of them, but Webby thinks it's poetic in a way.  
  
They'll always be with you.

Either way, she just... doesn't have anything with Lena. The only thing she can think of is maybe it's a curse. Why, for only Lena, she doesn't know.  
  
She guesses she'll just find out when she meets them.  
  


* * *

  
Webby's dreams are always _colorful_. 

They're filled with energy, or a wash of calmness, or everything and anything in-between. She has what people would consider normal dreams, but her favorite dreams are the ones bursting with color, the ones that represent her soulmates.

The soulmate connection, it’s always been so fascinating to her, how tightly linked two people can be that they leak over into the other's life. Soulmate dreams don't tell much, just give you a feeling, the knowledge that your soulmate is out there. It's comforting to her, being one of the only ways she can really interact with her soulmates, the feeling of having that intricate connection. 

It makes the empty manor more bearable.

Red dreams feel stabilizing, comforting, like a force that promises to protect. She often wakes up with the taste of hot chocolate on her tongue. Blue dreams buzz with energy, light and floaty like an adrenaline rush, leaving excitement in its wake. They always put her in a bright mood, a bounce in her step. Green dreams match the feeling of being huddled up in bed perfectly, a soothing peacefulness wrapping around her, the knowledge it's okay to rest. It slows her brain, careful to keep her from getting too caught up in her research.  
  
 _(sometimes it’s not okay, sometimes the energy is too loud, sometimes she sinks and sinks and sinks)_

Black dreams…  
  
 _She’s in a howling inky black void, swirling around her, it pushes and pulls every way and she’s so sure she’ll lose her footing, but her body is fuzzy with edges blurred, slowly slipping away and becoming victim to the whirlpool._ _  
__  
__There’s no warmth, no energy, no peace._ _  
__  
__There’s nothing._

 _She realizes there’s no one there, no one at all, like a connection severed and leaving her wondering where the other half went. It’s just her, alone in the darkness threatening to swallow her whole._ _  
__  
__It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not—_ _  
__  
__—_ Webby wakes up in a cold sweat.  
  
 _(the dreams never change)_  
  


* * *

  
Webby makes a very, _very,_ ultra extremely important discovery.  
  
“ _Granny!_ ” she yells, kicking open her door to dash into the hall, the big book she’s carrying not slowing her down in the slightest.  
  
“Dear, you shouldn’t be yelling like that.” her granny admonishes once Webby finds her vacuuming in the hall, skidding to a halt in front of her and excitedly bouncing.  
  
Granny shuts off the vacuum. “Now, what is it?”  
  
“I found a documented record of the McDuck Clan’s bloodline that goes past Scrooge, and _look!_ ” Webby flips to a page, shoving it in Granny’s face. “Huey, Dewey, and Louie _are on it!_ They’re Scrooge McDuck’s _great nephews!_ And I’m soulmates with them!” she squeals, twirling as she holds the book close.  
  
“What do you think they’re like? Are they adventurers too?” Webby paces in a circle, unable to keep herself from waving a hand excitedly.  
  
“I’m… sure they’re great, dear.” Granny says slowly.  
  
Webby barely hears her, continuing on. “They must live with Donald, _gosh,_ I can only _imagine_ how exciting their lives are, taking on daring and noble adventures every day, fighting _monsters,_ finding super secret lost _treasure!_ ”  
  
The possibilities swim in her brain, ballooning into an excitement that can't compare to anything else. She squeals, vigorously shaking her hands. "Ooohhh, I can't wait to meet them! Do you think they'll move in? Oh my gosh what if they move in?!" 

Granny smiles. "That would be lovely." 

Webby doesn't realize her theory would become a reality until just a year later.  
  


* * *

  
Scrooge doesn’t allow anyone inside of the manor outside of Beakley, Launchpad, and herself. Webby thinks it’s partially because of the reason Granny's kept her inside all these years, and partially because he just doesn’t want to.  
  
So _naturally,_ upon seeing three strangers in the manor, Webby makes quick work of tying them up for interrogation.  
  
“I’ll put the marbles back, I _swear!_ ” the person in the middle cries. Webby doesn’t know what marbles they’re referring to, but if these three stole anything…  
  
She circles them, pointing accusingly. “Who sent you? Ma Beagle? _Glomgold?_ ” Her eyes land on the one in green. They’re sweating profusely, terror written across their face. “ _Answer me_.”  
  
“U-Uncle Scrooge!” they sob.  
  
Wait.  
  
“ _Uncle_ Scrooge? Oh my gosh, the nephews!” Webby screams in joy, clapping her hands to turn the lights back on. She dashes onto a nearby chair, pulling out her dagger from the wall to cut the three of them down.  
  
“Just one nephew.” the middle person corrects, gesturing their head to Louie. They must be Dewey based on their blue clothes.  
  
“Oh, sorry!”  
  
“Wait, you know us?” the one in green— _green_ , which means _Louie_ — asks.  
  
Webby cuts the triplets down unceremoniously, the three of them landing in a heap with minimal groans of pain.  
  
“Of _course!_ ” She leans against the front of the chair, peering down at them before hopping down, holding her dagger close in a bashful manner. “Researching Mr. McDuck and his family is kind of my hobby.”  
  
Louie looks up at her from the floor. “Wha…?” he says, but she’s barely paying attention.  
  
 _And you're my soulmates_.  
  
The thought’s been buzzing in her mind since she realized who they were, but it didn’t fully _hit_ until this second. They’re her _soulmates_. She’s finally meeting them, she’s _dreamed_ of this day— both literally and metaphorically— for _years_.  
  
Webby bounces on her feet, unable to contain the excitement bursting in her. “And— of course I know you, because we’re _soulmates!_ ” She announces gleefully, throwing out her arms.  
  
“Wait, _what?_ ” Huey asks sharply, but Webby’s barely paying attention.  
  
She needs to know _everything_ about them.  
  
“Oh, what are your blood types?!” She tosses aside the dagger, plucking at one of Louie’s feathers curiously, then picks up Dewey. “What’s Donald really like?” She skids to a halt in front of Huey, holding her hands together. “Who’s the evil triplet?”  
  
“Louie,” Huey and Dewey mumble automatically, looking a bit shaken. Louie doesn’t acknowledge them, staring at Webby with wide eyes.  
  
Huey shakes her head, blinking. “Wait, can we go back to the soulmates thing?”  
  
“Oh! Right.” Webby ducks her head in embarrassment, a sudden wave of nervousness washing over her previous excitement. This is her first time meeting any of her soulmates. Is there a protocol for it? Has she already messed up? Wait, they’re expecting an answer, she needs to say something.  
  
“I’m Webby Vanderquack.” She fiddles with her sleeve. “And we’re soulmates, I’m pretty sure.”  
  
It registers with Huey first, her eyes widening as she looks at her own wrist, then back to Webby. “Wait, you’re—”  
  
Dewey cuts her off. “You’re our _soulmate?!_ ” they scream, eyes as wide as dinner plates as they squeal, suddenly pulling Webby into a hug and spinning her around. “Oh my gosh, oh my _gosh,_ this is so cool, we’re _soulmates!_ ”  
  
Webby laughs, feeling dizzy when Dewey sets her down. Despite the unfamiliarity of it all, the knot in her chest loosens.  
  
Huey leans towards her, her hands balled into fists at her chin. “I can’t believe it! Oh, I have so many questions, we should have some kind of discussion about this and share our experiences— like the _dreams,_ or—“ She rapidly flaps one hand, letting out a squeal.  
  
Curiously, Louie hasn’t moved at all. He’s rooted to his place, staring at Webby with his mouth open like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.  
  
“ _You’re_ our soulmate?” he asks incredulously, a weird edge to his tone. “You— I—” He pulls down his left sleeve, staring at his arm, before looking back at Webby, tentative hope in his face as he takes a step forward.  
  
“...Can we see?” he asks quietly.  
  
Webby smiles, holding out her arm. Louie steps close enough to fully join the huddle, the triplets staring at their written names on Webby’s wrist with wonder. Dewey pulls down one of their sleeves too, showing her what’s clearly written as _Huey, Louie, Webby_. Huey and Louie follow, and her name is on all of them.  
  
It’s written in pink, the letters uneven and a bit messy, and it’s the same handwriting she’s looked at for her entire life, one she knows so well. It’s _hers_.  
  
Webby can’t help the waterworks as she pulls the triplets into a hug.  
  
“Wait.” Dewey’s the first to pull back, looking curiously at Webby’s arm. “Who’s Lena? Their name was also there.”  
  
“Oh, Lena?” Webby glances down at the black colored name. “I haven’t met them yet, so I don’t know! And there’s no one in the McDuck family named Lena either, so there’s no leads for me to go off of…”  
  
“You mentioned researching Uncle Scrooge and his family, right?” Huey asks, tilting her head.  
  
Webby lights up. “Yes! Oh, you’ve gotta tell me _everything!_ Your lives must be so exciting!” She squeals, snatching up a camera and swiftly taking a photo of them.  
  
Louie rubs at his eyes from the flash. “Um, we live with our uncle?”  
  
“...On a boat?” Dewey adds.  
  
Webby shakes the photo, walking past as she studies it. Her face is going to hurt from how much she’s been smiling. “Go on.” she drawls.  
  
“Kinda it,” Huey says, “We’re just a normal, boring family.”  
  
Webby turns, placing her hands on her hips with a grin. “Normal? _Boring?_ _Hah!_ ” She kicks a nearby soccer ball at the map on the wall, rolling it up and revealing her board of Mr. McDuck’s family behind it.  
  
The triplets stare in awe, walking closer to the board. “ _Woahhh._ ”  
  
“Huey, Dewey, and Louie Duck!” Webby pins the picture she took to the board, connecting a black string between it, Donald and Scrooge McDuck’s photos. “Scrooge McDuck’s great niblings on his sister Hortense’s side with Quackmore Duck _twice removed!_ ”  
  
“You really weren’t kidding about the research,” Huey says faintly, blinking up at the board.  
  
“Of course! ... _Wait!_ ” Webby yells, holding out her hands. “Are we… friends now?”  
  
The triplets blink, sharing a look with each other, before Huey turns to her, holding out a hand. “Of course! It’s nice to meet you, Webby.”  
  
Webby beams.  
  


* * *

  
The day that followed was the best day of her _life_. They fought a ghost, then a dragon, went to the lost city of _Atlantis_ , found the jewel— and just, so many other things! It’s the first time she’s ever truly felt _connected_.  
  
Like she was part of a family.  
  
They finished cleaning the garage earlier, and subsequently messed around in the garage, then piled into the manor still full of excitement, Webby giving them a tour, until they eventually settled down into the living room and turned it into what’s called a blanket fort, the triplets excitedly sharing stories and a multitude of games and movies she’s never heard of with her.  
  
Eventually, the excitement of today finally starts to ebb, exhaustion replacing it.  
  
Her mind is still racing, but she’s _also_ been up for over twenty four hours straight. That’s definitely way past her bedtime, she muses, walking into the kitchen to find something to eat since she accidentally neglected that need of hers.  
  
With the others trailing behind her, she assumes they have too. Or, Dewey has. Louie seems to just like raiding the kitchen for junk food, and Huey’s there for damage control.  
  
“I kind of really want hot chocolate right now,” Webby says before she even registers she’s speaking. She blinks. She doesn’t know where that... came from… _oh_. “Wait, Huey?”  
  
Huey looks away from Louie, who she was just arguing with over taking whatever he wanted from Scrooge’s kitchen when _what if there’s something he doesn’t want us touching, stop stuffing your face with junk food—_ “Yes?” _  
_  
“Do you make hot chocolate? I always feel like I have some in my soulmate dreams for you.”  
  
Huey perks up. “You do? I guess that’s just a constant for mine. Dewey and Louie say they feel like that too.”  
  
Dewey shoves a granola bar into their mouth. “Oh, you _gotta_ try Huey’s hot chocolate, she makes the _best_. Can you make some Huey? _Pleeeease?_ ” they plead, puppy dog eyes on the max. “Webby hasn’t had any and that’s a _crime_.”  
  
“It’s the only thing she _can_ make.” Louie snorts. He immediately backtracks at Huey’s glare. “Please don’t revoke my hot chocolate privileges.”  
  
“I’m only making some because Webby hasn’t tried it yet… and also because I’m in the mood for it.” Huey ignores Dewey and Louie cheering, already scouring the cabinets for whatever she needs.  
  
Webby helpfully redirects Huey to where the pots and pans are, then the spices, the chocolate, until eventually everything is set out.  
  
“You make it with milk?” Webby asks, watching with fascination as Huey gets started quickly, moving like she’s done this a million times before. She probably has.  
  
“Milk has the most optimal taste.”  
  
“You _don’t?_ ” Louie squints at her like she just told him the moon landing was fake. “What kind of life have you been living?”  
  
“How can you _not_ make it with milk?” Dewey asks.  
  
“I dunno. No one’s told me I should before.”  
  
Louie’s staring in a weird mix of confusion, disgust, and outrage. He shakes his head. “You poor, innocent soul. You’ve been living a lie.” Webby isn’t sure what’s so awful about not drinking it with milk.  
  
After some more bantering, Huey repeatedly pulling Louie away from the chocolate, and Dewey requesting increasingly more absurd ingredients to add… it’s finally done.  
  
Webby holds her pink mug, studying the whipped cream and marshmallows on top.  
  
Nearby, Huey is exasperatedly watching Dewey, who’s dumping an insane amount of marshmallows into their drink along with many other things, whipped cream, chocolate, peppermint, until what’s underneath isn’t visible.  
  
Louie’s already downing his drink, looking as content as someone possibly could, a lazy smile on his face.  
  
Webby looks at all of them, these people she’s known for only over twenty four hours yet she feels like it’s been a lifetime, and takes a big sip.  
  
“Oh, _wow,_ ” Webby gasps.  
  
It’s so _rich_ and creamy, soothing her the same way those red dreams do. There’s even a hint of peppermint in it. “Huey, this is _way_ better than what I’ve been having! I could drink this forever… It’s like a cozy blanket.”  
  
Huey smiles, looking away as she fiddles with her hair. “Thanks, Webby.”  
  
After everyone’s finished, Webby leads them the way to their new room. It’s pretty barren right now, her granny setting up the bare basics for a comfortable room and leaving personalizing up to the others. The only things are really just the bunk bed with a red carpet underneath, a desk, and a small fan.  
  
“Ugh, I’m _exhausted,_ ” Louie groans, making a beeline for the bottom bunk and flopping onto it. “How long have we been _up?_ ”  
  
“Twenty nine hours,” Huey answers, posture slouching as she climbs onto the top bunk.  
  
“Really? It feels a lot shorter than that.” Dewey looks around the room, eyeing the walls like they already have ideas for decoration. They turn on the fan when passing it. By process of elimination, they take the middle bunk, plopping down and swinging their legs over the edge of the bed.  
  
Huey peers down her bed to look at Dewey. “You’re not a very reliable source for time.”  
  
“I can be _reliable_.”  
  
“What time is it right now?”  
  
“Uh.”  
  
Dewey waves their hands frantically at Huey’s smug look. “Shut up! It’s— um, it’s... it’s bedtime, _nailed it_.” They cross their arms with a smirk. Huey rolls her eyes.  
  
“I don’t wanna sleep yet.” Dewey bounces a leg, fiddling with their hands as they turn to Webby. “We haven’t even gotten a chance to talk to you about being soulmates yet! Like, the dreams, or…” Their eyes light up and they swiftly point at her. “Webby! You like churros, right?”  
  
Webby startles from being spoken to. She was just about to slip away, thinking they didn’t notice she was there. “I do! How do you...”  
  
It clicks in her head what Dewey’s saying.  
  
“ _Ohhh._ Wait, I have a list for this! It’s not a lot, but, from the top of my head…” she hums, thinking. “You like cats.”  
  
Dewey throws up their arms, grinning. “See?! This is what I mean!”  
  
“You have a list too?” Huey cocks her head. “We should get ours tomorrow and compare them!”  
  
“Yeah yeah, we can talk about this stuff _to-mor-row,_ ” Louie, who is apparently not asleep, emphasizes, rolling over to glare up at his siblings. “I’m trying to _sleep_ here.”  
  
Huey gives him an unimpressed look before smiling at Webby. “See you tomorrow. Good night, Webby.”  
  
Dewey and Louie give their own _g’nights,_ albeit Dewey more enthusiastically and Louie’s half asleep.  
  
Webby smiles, shutting off the lights.  
  
“Good night.”  
  


* * *

  
"I'm kind of surprised," Webby says, abruptly breaking the peaceful silence she and the triplets had fallen into.

This was starting to become a noticeable pattern. Not the break, but, the lapse in silence. Webby felt weirdly nervous the first time it happened, but she quickly realized it was just a way of... being comfortable with someone. You didn't always have to be talking to enjoy each other's company. 

It's late at night, definitely almost time for bed, and the four of them are sitting on the couch, letting the credits roll of an ottoman empire episode.  
  
Louie was horrified by the fact Webby hadn't watched it yet and brought them all together to binge as many episodes as they could. He’s now half asleep, heavily leaning onto Huey, and Dewey’s moved from sitting to sprawling themself across their sibling's laps.

Huey looks over to her, blinking. "About what?" 

Webby internally curses her tendency to suddenly blurt out whatever she's thinking. "It's just... I expected you guys to be... I dunno, seasoned adventurers. I didn't think Donald would stop doing it. Taking a break to raise you guys makes sense, but for him to just stop? I wonder what changed." 

"It is kind of weird," Huey agrees, rubbing her eyes. She shifts her arm around Louie, absently ruffling Dewey’s tuft of hair.  
  
"He's so normal. There's nothing to say that he used to go on adventures with Uncle Scrooge. Heck, we didn't even know we were related to Scrooge until we moved here. This whole side of our family was never talked about." She waves a hand, then lets it flop back onto Dewey's head.

Dewey looks vaguely uncomfortable. Louie’s pretending to be asleep. Webby feels like she's touched something she shouldn't have.

She's not sure if it's meant to be an apology, or to comfort them for something she doesn't understand yet, but Webby gently tilts herself until she's leaning against Louie's shoulder. She melds into the pile seamlessly, and no more words are said.

When Dewey finds Webby the next day, asking about their mom, the puzzle finally clicks.

She agrees to help.

And it's because she's curious, because Dewey's her friend, because of many things, but the one that stands out the most is the familiarity. She doesn't know her parents. She doesn't know what happened to them. It's a loss she can't quite explain, because she never knew them, but she could have.  
  
There's always the what-if's that will live in her head forever until the day she's fertilizer for the ground, and she sees them in Dewey’s too.  
  


* * *

  
Webby is admittedly dejected when she can’t fit in the boat and waves the triplets away to whatever fun adventure they’re about to experience.  
  
That paired with her not understanding the Captain Lost joke at all, it brings a painful reminder that she’s _new_.  
  
She’s a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit into the family yet. Maybe she’ll never fit. Maybe she’s just shaped wrong.  
  
She hadn’t quite gotten time to ponder when a bottle washed up to shore in front of her, and she finds herself entering a slightly flooded amphitheater, a girl sitting at the edge of the central space and writing on a piece of paper. Webby’s immediate thought is that she’s passing along messages from all those sailors.  
  
“I’m here to save either a sailor, group of sailors, or a shark from a sea serpent pirate invasion and or scurvy!” Webby cries.  
  
The girl stares at her. “What? N-no, those are from me.” Webby blinks, staring down at the bottles she’s holding. The girl continues. “I’m just messing around, you know, like a game?”  
  
“Fun! Let me try!” Webby carelessly drops the bottles, leaping to the wooden platform. She skids onto her knees, swiftly taking a piece of paper and a pencil to write before sliding it into a bottle.  
  
The girl takes it, squinting as she reads aloud. “Please recycle this bottle. _Okay_ , I don’t think you get this game.” She hands back the bottle, Webby dropping it into the ocean.  
  
“Hi, I’m Webby.” Webby remembers to introduce herself, holding out her hand.  
  
“Mmm. Hey.” The girl shakes it, disinterestedly picking up a paper beside her. Webby only just notices the flashy necklace the girl is wearing, a purple gem lined with gold adorning it.  
  
“Is that a vintage Sumerian talisman?” Webby _knows_ she’s seen it before.  
  
The girl shrugs, stuffing it under her shirt. “Dunno, found it at a thrift shop.” She’s still looking at the paper and absently picks up the pencil, presumably to write another joke.  
  
Webby doesn’t feel nervous, per se, holding her knees to her chest and fiddling with her hands, a nervous smile on her face. But she’s a little worried this new person is annoyed with her, if she thinks Webby’s weird, or if she thinks this is awkward, or if Webby’s saying all the wrong things, or…  
  
“Oh, huh. Y-you’ve got some pink in your hair, I think someone pranked you.” Webby leans forward, cupping a hand to her mouth and glancing around like whoever did it is eavesdropping.  
  
“It’s supposed to look this way.”  
  
“Oh. _Oh_...” Webby looks away, embarrassment clawing at her chest. To her own horror, she keeps talking. “I like your shirt!”  
  
The girl stops writing, finally turning to Webby with a lazy smile, her purple eyeshadow shining in the sunlight. “Mmm, not my shirt. I actually got it off the lead singer of the Feather Weights after a gig in Paris.”  
  
Webby leaps up. “You’ve _been_ to _Paris?!_ ”  
  
She gasps. “You _haven’t?_ Oh, you gotta go, It’s like here, only _fancier_.”  
  
Webby holds her arms out in excitement, pacing around. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris, crawl around in the catacombs.” She stops, holding her hands together and smiling. “Maybe touch a _skull_.”  
  
When the girl’s response is only a soft, pretty smile, Webby giggles nervously, rocking a leg as she leans against a pillar.  
  
Her foot hits the last bottle and it splashes into the water.  
  
“Welp, game over,” the girl says.  
  
“I got it!”  
  
Webby backflips through the path of rocks, swiftly catching the bottle with her foot and flipping it into the air to snatch it, heading back the same way and landing hard on the platform.  
  
“Here!” Webby holds out the bottle to the girl.  
  
She slowly takes the bottle, stunned. “That was… actually pretty cool. Are you like, in the circus?”  
  
“Circus acrobats keep elephant hairs in their pockets for good luck.” Webby blurts out. “I don’t know why I just told you that. Or why I’m still talking. Or why I pointed out the fact I’m still talking. Or—”  
  
“Woah, easy flippy.”  
  
“Webby!” Webby corrects.  
  
The girl points to herself. “Lena. Thanks for the bottle.”  
  
 _Lena._  
  
Her breath catches in her throat.  
  
The black and grey sweater, the way her handwriting matches perfectly, the mysterious aura, everything about Lena, everything _fits_. How did Webby not see it before? The fact that she’s meeting all her soulmates in the time frame of just a month after waiting for years and years is so _amazing_ and confusing and—  
  
“Hey—”  
  
“You’re my soulmate!” Webby blurts out just as Lena starts talking. She flushes, embarrassment creeping up. “Sorry, I got excited. But I can’t _believe it_ _!_ ”  
  
“Soulmate?” Lena asks incredulously, staring at Webby with a frown. “Is this like, a prank, because you’re not really good at this.”  
  
Her stomach drops, the excitement blinking out in a matter of seconds.  
  
...What?  
  
But she was… she was so _sure_. Surely, this is her soulmate, surely… but Lena’s still staring at her like she’s expecting Webby to laugh and say it was all a joke, and her chest feels like the walls are closing in and suddenly she wants to be anywhere but here.  
  
She screwed up _again_.  
  
“Oh, I, uh… um… S-sorry, I guess I jumped to conclusions…” Webby rubs her arm, curling into herself. This feels like it’s summing up to be the worst, most embarrassing day ever.  
  
Lena blinks, quirking an eyebrow. Finally, she looks away. “Well, whatever. So I was wondering… you wanna come with me to this blowout at the edge of town? Should be cool.” she smiles, and _oh_ _,_ that’s pretty.  
  
Webby’s mind is reeling.  
  
She really thought that would have been the end of it, that Lena would have walked away or told Webby to leave, that the embarrassment of talking to her would be too much to deal with.  
  
But… she’s still here. And she’s _inviting_ Webby to hang out with her!  
  
“Oh, uh— sure! I’ve never actually seen a proper explosion.”  
  
“It’s another name for party.” Lena corrects.  
  
Webby hastily finger guns. “Yep! Totally knew that.”  
  
Shame burns again, but she ignores it in favor of focusing on this person who she can’t lose just yet. She needs to get this right.  
  
Lena not being her soulmate she still doesn’t understand, but… it’s not uncommon to meet more than one person with the same name in your life. Sure, it doesn’t happen to everyone, but there’s gotta be another Lena out there.  
  
Even if a part of Webby screams that the one she needs is right in front of her.  
  
She looks up at the sun, noticing the time. The soulmate deal will have to wait, Webby decides, folding up her thoughts into a nice little box to keep tucked away for when the time is right, or to collect dust.  
  
She really hopes it won't be the latter.  
  


* * *

  
A knock resounds through the room, the sound of fire crackling mingling with it. Webby jolts, eyeing the manor’s front doors and dashing to them, swinging it open.  
  
“ _Lena!_ ” she shouts, throwing up her arms.  
  
Lena smiles, leaning against the door frame. “Hey, Pink.” She walks into the manor, smoothly shutting the door behind her.  
  
Webby was _very_ excited when Lena apparently hadn’t seen any of Darkwing Duck either, something the triplets were scandalized about, which Webby has found to be their reaction nearly every time she says she hasn’t seen or done something. Webby’s mostly only seen old time-y shows, things her granny considers a classic.  
  
Obviously, they had to marathon the show together, since Lena quickly became Webby's best friend. 

They broke into a party together, were British, defeated the Beagle Boys, watched horror movies, did sleepovers, went on an awesome adventure in the subway... Lena comes over every week now and Webby's never had so much fun.

Well, she has. The triplets are plenty fun. But there's something different about talking with Lena, the relationship just... isn't the same.  
  
Lena’s a friend. The triplets are a family she hasn’t quite fit into yet, but she’s getting there.  
  
“So, what are we watching again?” Lena asks.  
  
“Darkwing Duck! Come on, I set up the living room, and threatened the triplets so they know not to bother us!” She bounces, grabbing Lena’s hand and rushing to the aforementioned room.  
  
Popcorn and various other snacks and drinks fill the table, fairy lights strung up in the room, and blankets placed in the most perfect places to create what Webby likes to think is the best friend fort in the history that probably exists on blanket forts. She thinks they deserve it.

"Woah." Lena looks around, eyes wide. 

"I may have gone a little overboard... but! We're gonna be here for awhile, so might as well be comfy, right?" Truth be told, Webby had an absolute blast setting this up and she would do it again in a heartbeat. Going overboard is the best. 

Lena nods, still gazing around the room. She blinks, shaking her head, then flops onto the couch. “Alright, let’s watch this dorky show.”  
  
Webby smiles brightly, twirling over to the couch and falling beside Lena. "Okay! This is one of Dewey’s favorite shows, so it's probably good, we kind of have similar tastes in a lot of things. The stuff they like isn't usually very accurately depicted though, like, a lot of the character’s stances will be wrong or weapons won't work at all the way they should... but that doesn't matter, it's just supposed to be fun!" 

"Mhm." Lena nods, smiling lazily, arm resting against the sidearm with her head propped on her hand "Fun."

"Alright, we're starting now!" Webby presses the play button.

Webby was very right about it being good. She wouldn't say it's the best thing ever, but it's fun, and sometimes it gets Lena to laugh, whether sarcastically or her genuine one. They're both so different, the first one biting and teasing, her genuine one airy and loud, and Webby loves each and every laugh that ever comes from Lena's mouth.

Lena’s commentary mainly consists of poking fun at the characters. Sometimes she imitates them and her voice matches near perfectly.

"How do you do that?" Webby asks when Lena mimics another line.

"Do what?"

"Like... with your voice. You get the range and tone perfectly, it's almost uncanny. Mostly it's really cool, though, could you teach me how to do it sometime?" 

Lena shrugs. "It’s natural? I dunno how I'd teach you it, but I could try."

" _Natural?_ Gosh, that's so cool having an ability like that. Imagine the things you could do! It’d make something like a spy mission so much easier, the common conundrum of having to imitate someone's voice through a phone after you just knocked them out to not rouse suspicion— or you could use it to sing, you'd have so much range!" Webby throws out suggestions like tossing darts. She opens her mouth to say something again,

when the room goes dark.  
  
Lena yelps in surprise. "Wh-what happened? Why'd the lights shut off?" her voice pitches, terror thinly masked.

"Hold on!" Webby feels around, catching her night vision goggles from under the couch. She knew keeping it nearby would come in handy, most of her other gear sitting under the couch too. She swiftly pulls them on, scanning the room. No signs of any disturbances. "I think it's just a power outage? That was really bad timing..."

"Oh," Lena sighs, her relief palpable. "That sucks. How are we gonna see anything?"

"We always have candles for emergencies like this." Webby offers a solution. "I can go get them. Granny’s probably figuring out how to fix the outage right now."

"Yeah, that'd be cool. Thanks, Pink."

Webby gives a thumbs up, forgetting Lena cant see it, and then she heads off. She quickly finds the candles and a lighter, worried about leaving Lena alone for too long. Sitting in the dark is never fun. Gathering as many as she can hold, she dashes back to the living room.  
  
"I’m back! I've got the candles and a lighter!" She yells, announcing her presence. 

"Oh— that was quick." 

Webby sets down the candles, lighting them up. The room is washed in a soft orange glow. Lena visibly relaxes, and Webby steps back, sitting on the couch. "I didn't want to leave you alone."   
  
Lena gives a small smile. “I’m fine.”

Webby smiles back. It quickly leaves as she groans, sinking into the couch. “Ugh, power outages are the worst. They don't happen a lot, but there was this one time when I was younger where it shut off when I was in the kitchen. It freaked me out so much.”  
  
“I've never experienced a power outage before.”  
  
“They're always scariest the first time, I think. I’m glad Granny was with me the first time it happened.” Webby stares at the ceiling, the candles flames casting a dancing light.  
  
“Mmm. You talk about your grandma a lot.”  
  
“Of course I do! She's always been there for me. She's raised me since I was a little kid. I… never really knew my parents,” Webby admits quietly. “It's just been her and me, y’know? She taught me everything I know.”  
  
Lena hums. “It's always just been me and my aunt.”  
  
“What's she like?”  
  
“Eh…” Lena waves a hand. “I don't really wanna talk about it. Tell me more stories?”  
  
Webby happily obliges, launching into the first thing she can think of.  
  
She notices the glimpses of Lena's wrists she's been able to catch when her oversized sleeves aren't obscuring them.  
  
She notices she can't see any visible writing.  
  
Maybe it's just because it's dark, or maybe Lena’s soulmark's are written in white. Webby tries not to think about it too much.  
  
If she does, she's going to dig herself into a hole of questions with no answer.  
  


* * *

  
The date April fifteenth has always been important to Webby.

She's never quite known why. It was easy to assume it was related to her soulmates, but related to _what_ _,_ she didn't have a clue.  
  
She finds out during a game of twenty questions.  
  
“Hmm…” Huey hums from her spot on the couch, half eaten sandwich in her hand. “If you could be granted immortality, would you do it?”  
  
“Why do you keep asking existential questions,” Louie accuses, staring at Huey.  
  
“That’s the entire point of the game!” She waves her hands exasperatedly. “You’re supposed to ask questions you wouldn’t in an everyday conversation.”  
  
“Questions you wouldn’t ask in an everyday conversation if you’re a coward.” Dewey adds.  
  
Huey sighs loudly.  
  
Webby thinks over the question. “What kind of immortality? Can you still be killed by anything, like, is it that you could live forever if you just aren’t killed by an outside source? Can you be hurt at all?”  
  
“I’m thinking… hypothetically you could live forever, because outside sources can still harm you. Illnesses don’t count.”  
  
“Well, I think it’d be pretty cool! I’d be sad outgrowing all my friends though. I think I’d only wanna be immortal if they were too. And this type of immortality would still let me die in a noble, daring way, and I’d be written in history books forever as the most amazing adventurer just below Scrooge Mc.Duck!” Webby finishes dramatically.  
  
Huey nods. “That makes sense.”  
  
“My turn!” Webby declares. “Louie, if you were suddenly transported to a different universe what would you do?”  
  
“Can I go back?” he questions.  
  
“Hmm… if you find a way to, then sure!”  
  
He takes a sip of pep. “I’d become instantly famous for being from a different universe, show them all the weird tech we have from here and basically everything they don’t already have, get a mass company selling those things, become rich, and live out the rest of my life swimming in gold.”  
  
“What if they have a government that wants to take you as a lab rat and experiment you because you’re from a different universe?” Huey inquires.  
  
“Then I’d find a way to get back here, tell…” Louie waves a hand. “I dunno, people who know how this stuff works about the _other_ universe, still become famous for being the first person to travel between universes and get rich from the fame.”  
  
Huey stares at him skeptically. In response, Louie drinks more of his pep.  
  
“Alright! Webby!” Dewey raises their voice, pointing at her. “Uhhh… when’s your birthday?”  
  
“November twenty-sixth!” she responds. “I’m a Sagittarius.”  
  
The triplets eyes widen.  
  
“Oh!” Huey facepalms. “That makes so much sense, how did I not think of that…”  
  
Webby feels like facepalming herself despite not knowing what's happening, but mostly she feels confused. "What?"

"November twenty-sixth always felt, like, weirdly important to us?" Dewey explains. "I can't believe it's your birthday! _That’s_ why it was important!”  
  
“Wait…” Webby’s shoulders rise in surprise, “is your birthday April fifteenth?”  
  
“Yeah! Oh my gosh this is _so cool!_ ”  
  
“We’re turning eleven pretty soon,” Huey informs.  
  
Webby holds out her arms ecstatically. “I’m gonna be thirteen! Ah, teen years…”  
  
Louie snorts, nudging Huey. “You’re not the oldest anymore,” he says with a smug smile. Webby feels like this is a _Thing_ , capital T.  
  
Huey crosses her arms. “I’m the oldest in spirit. Older than _you_ , anyways.”  
  
“Hmm… nah.”  
  
“It’s okay, Huey. You can be the oldest in spirit, just like how you’re the tallest in spirit.” Dewey reassures her.  
  
Huey sputters. “We’re _all the same height!_ Stop implying we’re not!”  
  
“I dunno, Huey, I think you’re shorter than us.” Louie says, eyeing her carefully. “Y’know, just a little bit. But like Dewey said, it’s okay. Height doesn’t have to matter, we live in a short positive society.”  
  
“ _You’re_ making it matter and no I’m _not_ —”  
  
Webby laughs along with the others at Huey’s increasing irritation. She doesn’t add too much to the banter, but she doesn’t feel like she’s being left out either, watching it go on in amusement.  
  
It’s just… nice.   
  


* * *

  
"A flower field?"

Webby beams, turning back to Lena. "Yeah! The site I was reading said flower crowns are a thing friends do, so I thought we should try them out!" 

The site said a lot of things, but she decided to do this first. Of course, when she first heard of it, she immediately had to drag Lena out here to do it the second she came to the manor. And a picnic would also be fun, plus they might get hungry, so she threw together various snacks into a cute little basket and brought along a quilted blanket that she's now setting onto the grass.

"Besides, there's a secret hideout nearby hidden in this field, buried deep underground... I thought it'd be fun to explore that after this!" Webby adds on, stepping back and admiring her handiwork. Her backpack rests against the basket, filled with her adventuring gear and supplies for the crowns.

It's the _perfect_ setup.

Lena hums, sitting down. "Don't you normally do those things with your family?" 

"Yeah, but since this isn't too far from the manor and presumably isn't cursed or has an artifact that's been lost to time, it's probably safe for just us to go. And you haven't been on an adventure with me yet! So I was thinking maybe it could be our own little thing." Webby rubs the back of her head, sitting down. It feels kind of silly saying it out loud now.

Lena props her head against her hands, grinning. "You sure it's not cursed? Or haunted? Sounds pretty haunted."

"It would be cool if it was haunted..."

"Are ghosts like, a thing you deal with a lot?" Lena squints. It's not a judgmental squint, more a curious one. Webby’s always appreciated how Lena never seems to find these things weird.

Webby waves a hand. "Eh, sometimes! They’re more difficult to handle."  
  
She slides her backpack to her, rustling through and fishing out wire, floral tape, and scissors. "This would work better with bigger flowers, but I don't want to take anything from the garden. Forget-me-nots are pretty, anyways." she says, snipping off a good amount of them from the ground until she thinks it’s _probably_ enough for the two of them.

"Hold still for a second," Webby instructs Lena, bending a wire around her head to get the size right.

Lena obliges, not moving an inch. She's almost scarily still, the only thing moving being her eyes, watching as Webby wraps the wire. Her gaze flickers to Webby’s wrist. "So... what's with the writing on your arm?" 

Webby pulls back once she's satisfied with the shape of the wire, setting it down and grabbing a handful of the forget-me-nots she cut. "My soulmate markings? Everyone has those."   
  
“Oh, _right_. Soulmate markings, those things that… everyone has.” Lena waves a hand. “I just didn’t grow up in a very _accepting_ household, so I don’t know a lot about them. Would you mind explaining them to me?”  
  
“Of course! Personally, I think those kinds of people are a bit silly. I don’t get _not_ wanting to be part of such a wonderful thing. You’re born knowing that you’re going to meet some amazing people. Oh, sorry, I’m rambling.” Webby blushes.  
  
“It’s okay. Go on.” Lena prompts.  
  
“A soulmate is…” Webby studies the clump of flowers in her hands, trying to find the right words.  
  
“It’s like your best friend. It’s someone who you can laugh with, talk with when it’s way past your bedtime, share your interests, someone who’s always going to be by your side and you’ll be with them too. It’s an eternal bond that nothing can break. They make you better. They make your _life_ better. It’s someone who’s going to be more important to you than you could ever know.”  
  
She smiles, ignoring the way her eyes start to water as she thinks about the names on her wrist, the people she loves, the _family_ she’s finally part of.  
  
“Soulmates are still being studied. We don’t know exactly why we get the names of our soulmates on our wrists, or the dreams, or… much of anything, really. I don’t think it’s necessarily _important_ , though. It’s just part of us.”  
  
Webby dares to look at Lena.  
  
She freezes.  
  
Lena’s head is tilted ever so slightly, a soft smile spread across her face. The sunlight washes over one half of her, her half lidded violet eyes gleaming in it, gaze full of so much quiet _love_ that Webby’s heart skips a beat.  
  
The wind picks up, breeze brushing past and for just a moment, the only thing in the world is them.  
  
Webby’s the first to break, her face _burning_ as she jerks her head away, awkwardly staring at the picnic basket just to have something to stall her racing thoughts. “S-so! That’s… what I know about soulmates. Yeah. It’s, um, really hot right now? I’m going to… get some water.” She’s going to melt into a puddle and _die_ if she doesn’t shut up now.  
  
“O-oh! Yeah, um...” Lena trails off, presumably thinking about how awkward that was and how _weird_ Webby is and wow she hates everything right now.  
  
Webby hastily opens up the basket, fishing out a bottle of water and chugging half of it down. She still feels like she’s on fire, but at least her mouth isn’t dry anymore.  
  
“...Do soulmark's always appear on your wrist?” Lena asks after a moment, and Webby almost spills her water all over herself in surprise.  
  
She scrambles to compose herself. “Um, yeah, I think so.”  
  
“What happens if you lose that arm, then? Or aren’t born with arms? This feels discriminatory. Who made these rules?”  
  
Webby giggles, looking up at Lena. “It _is_ a bit unfair.”  
  
Lena flashes a smile. “It’s _totally_ unfair. And what about like, eldritch horrors or demons or whatever, do _they_ get soulmates? Is this a living person thing only? This system is starting to feel corrupt.”  
  
“I know most demons have soulmates, but things like seagulls don’t. I guess it’s a matter of if you can understand soulmates?” Webby hums, holding a hand to her face thoughtfully. “Or maybe the universe has very specific prejudices.”  
  
“Stupid universe, making stupid things. Bet it doesn’t even understand what it’d be like to not have any arms.”  
  
“The universe has arms?”  
  
“Who knows! It can have whatever it wants. It should really think about the rest of us here, we’re lucky if we get _two_ arms.” Lena feigns offense, dramatically waving a hand.  
  
Webby nods sagely. “A universe that’s weak for deep, meaningful bonds.”  
  
“It writes trashy books.”  
  
“Well, I think that this would be a nice story, what we have.” Webby fiddles with her hands, voice quiet. She stares at the blanket beneath her, flower crowns forgotten. “Wouldn’t it be?”  
  
Lena looks at her with an emotion she can’t quite decipher, something so intense and… melancholic, almost, swimming in her eyes. She sighs softly, gaze shifting to the field of forget-me-nots.  
  
“Yeah. It would be.”  
  


* * *

  
“It just doesn’t make any sense.”  
  
Webby paces her room, waving the pen in her hand around. Louie sighs. “You’ve said that a million times now,” he groans.  
  
“ _Louie_ ,” Huey admonishes.  
  
“She didn’t know what soulmates were, so it’s a _possibility_ we _are_ soulmates, and she just didn’t understand what it meant. But if we are soulmates, and she knows now, why didn’t she say anything?” Webby asks, more to the universe itself than her audience of three.  
  
Dewey tries to be helpful anyways. “Maybe she’s nervous?”  
  
“I guess…”  
  
Webby stares at the scatter of papers across the floor, a currently in-progress research board propped up against the end of her bed. Everything she’s thought of leads to a dead end. It’s _frustrating_.  
  
“Y'know, it’s not _bad_ if you aren’t soulmates,” Huey says bluntly. “You can still be friends or date since you clearly like her.”  
  
Webby elects to ignore the last comment. “I know! I know. I don’t need to be her soulmate, but… I feel this _connection_ with her. Out of any Lena out there, I want _her_ to be my soulmate. It feels like she should be.”  
  
She stares down at her wrist, colorful names greeting her. The black _Lena_ almost seems to taunt her, letters scrawled and hasty, some parts bolder or fainter. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Maybe she’s cursed,” Dewey muses. “There’s gotta be a reason. There _always_ is, and considering our track record it’s probably something super weird.”  
  
Webby halts in her pacing, heaving out a sigh as she plops onto her bed beside the triplets. They peer at her curiously, perfectly in sync. It’s reminiscent of the time they met Lena. “She’s so _mysterious_ . It feels like I’ll never figure her out.”  
  
“Hey, there’s no mystery you’ve never cracked before. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Louie waves a hand lazily, smiling at her.  
  
Webby almost feels comforted when Louie immediately breaks the moment with the next sentence that leaves his mouth. “Also it’s not like you need to figure this out to ask her to kiss you or whatever.”  
  
“Ugh!” Webby throws her pencil at him. He yelps. “I don’t _like_ her that way, we’re just friends!”  
  
“I can’t believe Lena’s gonna be our sister in law.” Dewey says, immediately ducking to avoid the wrath of the second pencil Webby has now thrown.  
  
Huey holds up her hands in a placating gesture. “Look, Webby.”  
  
Webby glares at Huey.  
  
“... _Look_ _,_ it’s just that, the way you talk about her clearly indicates you like her. And would like to kiss her. And it’s really obvious she likes you too.”  
  
“Lena likes me?” Webby asks. “Wait— okay, okay, _fine_ . She’s just really cute! And nice, and funny, and I love it when she gets this soft look in her eyes or when she’s genuinely laughing but her sarcastic laugh is fun too, she always knows how to lighten up the mood and she makes me so happy, she’s just… amazing.”  
  
“Wow, you’ve got it bad.” Louie comments very unnecessarily. This time he gets a pillow to the face.  
  
“We can help you plan a way to confess to her!” Huey suggests ecstatically, waving her hands around. “The guidebook has a great step by step instruction for the most romantic, efficient way possible to do it.”  
  
She pulls out her guidebook from under her hat, quickly flipping to a page, “Let’s see… we’d need flowers for starters, roses are always a good pick but we can throw in some forget-me-nots, honeysuckle, those stand for eternal bonds… tulips could be good…”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know, it seems like a little much…”  
  
Webby thinks it’s actually quite romantic. The idea of doing it sends butterflies to her stomach, and she imagines an elaborate date she could take Lena on. Flowers, candles, fairy lights… the image morphs into them in Webby’s room at a sleepover, something they’ve been doing frequently.  
  
Sitting under the covers of her blanket, talking about anything and everything as the night grows dark, watching horror movies with various snacks and laughing at the bad CGI, sometimes they’re too tired to properly move into sleeping bags and fall asleep cuddled with each other.  
  
It always makes Webby’s heart skip a beat, waking up in the morning to find Lena’s arms wrapped around her.  
  
Webby quashes down the burning thoughts, realizing her face is probably as red as it feels right now. She sighs. “Besides, I don’t wanna say anything unless I know Lena likes me for sure.”  
  
“Seriously?” Louie looks at her skeptically, holding the pillow Webby threw. “She _clearly_ does.”  
  
“ _Maybe_ she does! I mean, I don’t know any of Lena’s friends, this could just be how she acts with anyone she likes. Platonically. Likes platonically.”  
  
“I don’t think she has any friends other than you,” Dewey corrects.  
  
Webby blinks. “How could she _not_ _?_ She’s so cool…”  
  
"I'm cool and I didn’t have any friends," Dewey grumbles. Huey wraps an arm around them.

"I dunno Webs, maybe you gotta step up your game. Start doing gestures of... affection, or something, and she'll get the hint. Make some moves.'' Louie suggests, holding out a hand. "Or you can be stuck pining forever."

"Oh!" Webby perks up. She stands, hands balled into fists. "That's a great idea, Louie! What would I do, though... um..." It seems like her brain doesn't want to form ideas.  
  
A moment passes.  
  
"...Wait! I got it!” Webby bounces on her feet. “What if I made her a friendship bracelet?! To show that we're best friends and I love her." 

"That, um, might give the opposite effect you want." Huey says.

"It's perfect! I'll get onto making them tonight." Webby decides, shaking her fists excitedly. She doesn't notice the triplets sharing an exasperated look.  
  
Lena is going to _love_ them.  
  


* * *

  
Webby sighs. 

She shuffles, squirming in her sleeping bag. The glowing stars shining down from the ceiling don't help with soothing her racing thoughts, or inability to get comfortable. 

"Are you trying to not sleep, or..." Lena's voice rings out in the dimly lit room, her laying beside Webby in her own sleeping bag. 

"Sorry," Webby says reflexively. 

There's some shuffling from Lena, and then she's sitting up, illuminated by the stars. It's hard to see her expression in the dark, but her brow is furrowed with concern. "Seriously, what's up? You've been kind of weird all day, honestly."   
  
“Oh, it’s not that important…”  
  
Lena continues to stare at her with that same concerned, soft, expression, dazzling violet eyes watching her.  
  
Webby breaks immediately. How does Lena _do_ that? “Okay, well, I just. ...Do you have any siblings?”  
  
Lena blinks. “Wait, that’s it? Uh. No, I don’t.”  
  
“Oh. I don’t either.”  
  
“I thought those nerds were your siblings?”  
  
Webby winces. She burrows herself further into her sleeping bag, willing herself to disappear. “That’s kind of the problem? I dunno, they just. They did a dumb thing recently, an ‘Only Child Day’ where they pretended to not be siblings. And I don’t get it? Maybe it’s because I grew up without siblings but, I would kill to have one. And I kind of have them, but I don’t… I don’t know if they consider me a sister.”  
  
“Dude, they love you.” Lena says in such a blunt, matter-of-factly way that Webby stops. “Of course you’re their sister. Anyone can see clear as day you’re family, like, even me, who isn’t really good at the whole… family deal.”  
  
“I... “ She’s at a loss for words.  
  
Lena thankfully continues. “Look. Your family's great, and you're without a doubt part of it. And if _somehow_ they don’t accept you into it, I’ll fight them.”  
  
The sentence startles her so badly she laughs. “I’m not sure if you could take on world renowned adventurer Scrooge McDuck.”  
  
“I _will_ and I _can_.” Lena says with fierce determination, her hands balled into fists.  
  
Webby laughs again, her chest hurting. “Thanks, Lena.”  
  
Lena reaches over, ruffling Webby’s hair. She leans into the touch, and it’s over far too soon. “Anytime, Pink.”  
  
That’s supposed to be the end of the conversation.  
  
Webby’s mouth disagrees. “...What did you mean? When you said you weren’t great at the whole family deal?”

Lena curls up, and she strikes Webby as being so… _small_. She’s normally a bold presence in the room, and now she’s dwindled into a shadow hiding in the dark. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that I’m not very... close, with my Aunt.”  
  
 _Oh_.  
  
Webby thinks of how Lena has avoided this topic before. Embarrassment curls in her gut and it mixes with a deep sadness for Lena. “...Oh. I’m... sorry for pushing.”  
  
“It’s okay. Let’s just go to sleep now.”  
  
Webby nods. She shifts a bit closer to Lena until they’re pressed side-to-side against each other. Lena doesn’t move away.  
  
Webby shuts her eyes, letting darkness wash over her.  
  


* * *

  
Webby isn't stupid.

She can be naive, quick to forgive, maybe too optimistic, but she likes to think these are good traits in a world where it's expected to always be cynical. Believing in the best of people isn't a bad thing.

So she chose to believe in the best of Lena, despite every single suspicious thing she did. 

Webby can't say everything was suspicious, and she did, for the most part, believe everything Lena said. But she's not _stupid_ , despite her being oblivious. She knew something was going on. She wasn’t sure if it was Lena's living situation, or something Lena was doing herself, but... sometimes Lena would blatantly try to change the topic, or distract Webby from... _something_. Something she didn’t want Webby knowing.

Maybe all those things are why it's not hard for Webby to believe Lena is a traitor when she reads the poem in her diary.

The pieces add up. She's surprised, but she doesn't cling onto the idea Lena can't possibly be working for Magica like she thought she would. It's... upsetting. She almost wishes she did.  
  
It’d be better than her heart feeling like it’s been pierced, only strung together by the barest thread of determination as she wills herself to not break, not now, not when there’s a mission she and her siblings need to finish.

It'd be better than this.  
  


* * *

  
Lena dies.  
  
She dies in a spectacular burst of blue light, pained, _ear piercing and it’s going to haunt Webby’s dreams forever_ scream fading with her.  
  
 _Lena couldn’t be your friend because she was never real—_  
  
Real people break the rules every now and then. Real people do things simply to pass the time. Real people play on teeter totters with you, they hug you protectively, they snap and make all sorts of mistakes but they apologize later, they laugh with you and they make inside jokes with you, they...  
  
Real people die.  
  
They win. Magica’s reign of terror ends, the massive swirl of shadows invading the sky exploding in a shower of light. Everyone is cheering. Webby barely hears them.  
  
They won, they won, they _won_ , and she should be cheering, too.  
  
It doesn’t feel like they won.  
  
She stares at her friendship bracelet layed out in her hands, bright colors mocking her, reminding her of when she stayed up late into the night making it, and another for Lena.  
  
“Lena’s… gone.” Webby mumbles. Tears blur her vision. She says _gone_. Not _dead,_ because the idea of saying that out loud, it feels like it’ll be real, then. Gone. If she’s merely gone, Webby can pretend she’s coming back.  
  
She feels each of the triplets gaze on her, a tension in the air so thick it clogs her throat.  
  
“But… she sacrificed herself, to save you.” Huey says.  
  
 _Get away from my best friend—_ _  
_ _  
_Webby never got a chance to ask Lena if anything they did together was genuine. If Lena actually cared, or if she was faking the entire time, layers and layers of emotion and depth turned out to be shallow water.  
  
She’s never going to get to ask now.  
  
 _Lena’s head tilted ever so slightly, a soft smile spread across her face._  
  
...But, Lena called Webby her best friend. She died saving Webby.  
  
She saved her from the money shark, she defended her in the subway, she did so many things that she wouldn’t need to if she really was faking.  
  
Webby lets herself form a trembling smile. It is not happy. But there’s relief, knowing that at least, Lena loved her too. “I guess she really was my best friend,” she says, not to the triplets, but as a reassurance to herself. She was her best friend. What they had was _real_.  
  
Dewey places a comforting hand on her shoulder, and the touch is enough for Webby to burst into tears.  
  
They make a startled, concerned noise, quickly pulling her into a hug. The others join in, wrapping her in a tight embrace and she hugs them just as tightly back, holding on like they’ll disappear if she lets go.  
  
“She’ll always be with you,” Dewey tells her softly, and she believes them.  
  
They let go, eventually. They stood there for an eternity and not long enough. Reluctantly the four of them, holding hands tightly, approach Scrooge.  
  
He accepts them with open arms.  
  
The voice repeating _You are not family_ is finally put to rest.  
  
They all celebrate, having a victorious swim in the bin. Webby lets herself enjoy it, even when she wants to lay down and sleep forever, even when her mind keeps straying back to Lena and _a burst of light and a_ ** _scream_** —  
  
Finally, finally, it’s over.  
  
The second they pile back into the manor, adrenaline having left and exhaustion replacing it, Webby heads to her room without a word.  
  
She flops onto her bed and immediately bursts into tears.  
  
Lena’s _dead_.  
  
What did she do to deserve this? Why did this have to _happen_? Why, why, _why_. Her blood boils. She doesn’t hate people easily. She _hates_ Magica. She took away her best friend in the whole world, she did so many terrible things to her family, to her, to _Lena_.  
  
Lena.  
  
Webby screams into her pillow.  
  
She sits up, furiously pounding it, chest beating and buzzing, a sickly awful feeling tearing it’s way through her and she just wants it all to _stop_.  
  
She wants _Lena back_.  
  
Her lungs constrict, feeling like they’re about to collapse and take the rest of her with them. She sits there for a few minutes— or twenty, or an hour, she doesn’t know, she doesn’t know anything anymore— just trying, trying to breathe.  
  
Inhale.  
  
Exhale.  
  
A thought enters her mind. _  
_ _  
_Everything about Lena has always been so painfully real. But that doesn’t mean her body’s the same as others, she’s… she’s like a shadow, a construct, she was made by Magica and she can be _brought back_.  
  
Lena isn’t a spell you can just dissipate.  
  
She _went somewhere_ when Magica hit her with that blast.  
  
 _Lena can be brought back._ _  
_ _  
_Determination grips Webby, weaving itself into her bones and rooting itself firmly into her, replacing the stricken grief. She wipes away her tears, fists trembling.  
  
Lena can be brought back, and Webby is going to do it if it’s the last thing she does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forget-me-not: true and undying love, remembrance during parting or death, connection that lasts through time, loyalty, favorite memories with someone, growing affection
> 
> the AMAZING jen-iii (you can find her on tumblr) drew me this for this chapter! its the forget-me-not flower field scene. i will stare at it forever and you should too https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/645188620071862272/730701181374038036/CUTTTIIEESS.jpg


End file.
